


[HIATUS] Silence

by kingtysonsworld



Series: Don't Say a Word [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ableism, Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, British Sign Language, Childhood Trauma, Dyslexia, Found Family, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Muteness, Nonbinary Character, Sign Language, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingtysonsworld/pseuds/kingtysonsworld
Summary: A misplaced parcel leads to a disgruntled seventh-year into active resistance against the looming threats overhead. Tyrone Guy may not be able to talk, but that never stopped them before. The Ministry is falling, and they intend to be on top when a new government comes to replace it.OrTyrone Guy gets caught up in Ministry drama and rolls with it.
Series: Don't Say a Word [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863496
Comments: 35
Kudos: 8





	1. Misplaced Parcel

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dolores' Angels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4723967) by [Sarah1281](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/pseuds/Sarah1281). 
  * Inspired by [Through the Quiet Emerald Eyes (The Philosopher's Stone)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852573) by [alwayslily22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayslily22/pseuds/alwayslily22), [Des98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Des98/pseuds/Des98). 



> Thank you [Zel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariadoria/profile) for beta reading this fic and ensuring what I write makes sense and is clear, as well as Brit-pick my spelling. I'm afraid despite how much I try on my own, the fact I'm American still manages to slip in.

Tyrone dodged the empty bottles of beer flying towards them. A few chips of glass rebounded on the wall and hit the arm of their sweatshirt. They winced, but thankfully a quick inspection confirmed there were no tears to the fabric. Invisible mending was not their speciality, and the scrappy look of visible mending was not favoured unless it involved patches.

"Get! Out! OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU—!" shrieked the woman. Her foul beer smelling breath left a rancid stench in the room. “And take that stupid parcel with you! I see the name on it isn’t yours, useless child, and it sure isn’t mine, so. GET. OUT!”

Fleeing the house with the parcel in hand, Tyrone whistled. A screech owl flew down and landed on their shoulder. Said owl eyed at the parcel then shook its head; the parcel was much too big for them to carry. Tyrone shook their head. Mud attacked their boots, but it would clean off easily with the standard cleaning spell. _Scourgify,_ Tyrone faintly remembered, even if they never spoke a single incantation. Once far enough, they stopped to check the address on the box. 

> Mr H. Potter  
>  Smallest Bedroom  
>  Number 4 Privet Drive  
>  Little Whinging, Surrey

Tyrone groaned. Surrey was not served by the Underground, and their knowledge of other train systems was too limited. Apparating was not an option either, since they would have remembered being in a town before with a name as ridiculous as Little Whinging. They slapped themself and hurried to the nearest road. After a swift check for Muggles, they stuck their wand out in the air.

A triple-decker purple bus nearly sprang at their feet, having an almost ghostly aura.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening.”

Tyrone handed the man 11 sickles. They showed the address on the package, careful to cover the addressed person’s name. Even if it was unlikely to be Harry Potter’s actual address, it would bring about unnecessary attention to them if Stan started squealing.

“Surrey, eh? Any particular reason?” Stan asked.

They made a so-so motion with their hand. Tyrone eyed the beds in the back, but resisted, instead deciding to go up the second deck for a seat. The jerking of the Knight Bus overcome, they closed their eyes.

It was twilight by the time the Knight Bus arrived at Privet Drive. They kicked the dirt at their feet. Terrible, poor quality soil. Even in the low visibility of the night, it was clear this was a generic muggle suburban neighborhood of similar houses lined up next to each other. After the Knight Bus flew off though, a chill rose in Tyrone's spine. Two boys ran past them, and when Tyrone dared look, they swiftly joined them in running. Shadows who kissed your soul away, the worst type of creatures. To think them ever actually being in Ministry control was a fleeting joke. The unholy screaming of their mother rang through their ears...

_“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_

_“THIS WAY!”_

_“DUDLEY? DUDLEY!”_

_“GET IT!”_

Tyrone let out a breath at the sight of the silver stag. A corporeal patronus…. They shook their head. Harry Potter was still 15, the Ministry would not like the underage magic being cast without someone testifying for him what he spoke was true. Cursing their inability to speak, not for the first time, Tyrone Apparated back to the house and placed the package behind some bushes. They summoned parchment and ink in hand. It was fortunate they turned 17 recently, for the thought of obtaining permission to testify for a hearing from their mother left Tyrone shuddering.

> Improper Use of Magic Office,
> 
> Considering the current environment of the Ministry, I thought it prudent to report I bore witness to underage magic performed by Harry Potter outside of school in a Muggle neighborhood. It was, however, done in self-defence. If it is necessary, you may summon my presence to further explain, should Harry Potter be unable to himself. 
> 
> Please note I will require appropriate accommodations which come with being a person who is mute, such as a BSL to English interpreter. If for whatever reason BSL to English interpreters cannot be found, SSE, Australian SL, and New Zealand SL are also acceptable (in that preference order.)
> 
> From,  
>  Mx. Guy

Once finished writing, they whistled for their owl. Upon arrival, Tyrone put their hands on their hips, as if to say: Now where were you when I was running? The owl hooted and pecked at their shoe. With a sigh, Tyrone let the owl deliver the letter in their beak. It would be enough.

Mother was shouting at them again when they Apparated home. “USELESS! Came home so late and don’t even have the dignity—”

Tyrone ignored her and headed upstairs. The locks they had for their room were not installed by them for no reason. Once inside and assured Mother could not get in, they readied to head to bed before they froze. An owl was already waiting for them in their bedroom.

> Dear Mx. Guy,
> 
> You may be present to attend for Mr Potter’s hearing as a witness. Mr Potter’s disciplinary hearing will be on 12th August, 3 pm, at which time an official decision will be made whether Mr Potter may retain his wand. The decision of possible expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be made at the same time.
> 
> Thank you for your report of witness to Mr. Potter’s underage magic. An interpreter to accommodate your mute condition will be present. 
> 
> Yours sincerely,  
>  Mafalda Hopkirk
> 
> IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE  
>  Ministry of Magic

Tyrone took two deep breaths, then set the letter down on the table. Harry Potter would not have their wand snapped. They clenched their fists. Tomorrow would be their only chance for them to defend the Boy-Who-Lived from the idiocy infecting the current Ministry. Incompetence is cursed to every body of government internationally, it seemed.

They opened their clothing closet and grimaced at its contents. It would not do to show up for the hearing in Muggle clothing.


	2. The Hearing

Formal attire, even if it were just plain black robes, felt foreign on their skin, but Tyrone would have to push through. Heavier sacrifices have been made before. Besides, there was something more prudent to be angry about: the Ministry’s negligence in issuing their required 24-hour rescheduling notices. The hearing, for no apparent reason, was rescheduled to three hours earlier than what was stated in their original letter. They had to skip making lunch to be on time. Tyrone grimaced. Mother would not be happy to find out they left before at least cooking dumplings.

The Ministry’s attacks against Harry Potter were completely foolish. Even if he stood in the shadows today, tomorrow everyone could rally behind the Boy-Who-Lived against the Ministry. This current act against him would only lead to later spite. A Patronus is a purely defensive spell, and it spoke for itself: Either Harry Potter just wanted to show off or there was a genuine danger. If any Muggles saw, they could be Obliviated, instead of dragging a teenager to the end of his schooldays.

Percy walked into the waiting area where Tyrone had been waiting perfectly still. Witnesses, after all, could not be there during the main portion of hearings lest their testimony be affected by the defendant’s words. Even if Percy thought himself being clever and emotionless in his expression, Tyrone knew his thin lips were a sign of stress.

“Minister Fudge is waiting, Mx. Guy.”

Tyrone rose and followed Percy into the courtroom. Their eyes flashed at Harry Potter fidgeting in the center. They strode next to Percy and raised their chin to Fudge.

“Mx. Guy,” Fudge said as he read his notes, “you reported being a witness to Harry Potter’s display of underage magic. Is this correct?”

They frowned, but nonetheless, gave a curt nod.

“Please answer yes or no, Mx. Guy.”

Tyrone’s eyes wandered, but sign language did not require direct eye contact for communication. It was only for tonal purposes, useless in court, and courtesy. As far as Tyrone was concerned, no politician ever deserved courtesy; it was the nature of such precarious positions which led to terrible men flocking to them.

Fudge groaned. “No one here understands your silly hand language! You clearly can hear me very well, so speak up!”

Tyrone clenched their fists. Looking more carefully, there was not any obvious interpreter in the room. There was a horrid woman amongst the judges wearing pink jewellery glaring daggers at them though. Perhaps she was meant to interpret to them no one wanted to take them seriously.

Percy looked up from his piece of parchment and frowned slightly. “Minister Fudge, Mx. Guy had alerted us beforehand they are mute and cannot speak verbally. They specifically requested an English to BSL interpreter to be present in the room.”

Fudge fumed. Tyrone stifled a laugh at the hilarity of it. The warning signs were there; incompetent fools were not put in charge of government bodies by accident. They glanced back at the pink woman. She may not be responsible for his rise, but a tickle warned she majorly benefited from his rule.

Tyrone took out their wand and swished it. Sparks shot up, and in the air easily read: DEFENCE. Fudge looked as if he was ready to complain again once the word faded but was quickly silenced when Tyrone swished again. The new sparkled words read: LIGHT MAGIC.

“It is true,” Madam Bones said, “that the Patronus Charm is strictly defensive light magic.”

“Lies! They’re just backing up a string of lies for the Potter boy!” shouted the pink woman. “Why are we letting someone who can’t even take Veritaserum give a witness account?”

Tyrone sighed and gave their wand another swish. Magic was seeping out their core. They were faintly aware the last time they did this, Madam Pomfrey kept them in the Hospital Wing for two weeks. No one visited. The new message read: PENSIEVE MEMORY.

Fudge groaned. “Is this really necessary?”

“Witnesses are allowed to request for a memory extraction, even if the usual grounds for the request is from trauma…” Madam Bones said slowly.

They glared at both of them and gave a harsh swish. A full sentence sparkled: MY WORST MEMORIES ARE TRAUMATIZING.

Fudge paled. “Weasley, go get the courtroom pensieve.”

Tyrone pointed their wand at their head, a clear cylinder pulled out. Their eyes drooped, and they swished their wand a final time to send: TRIAL RESCHEDULE, MIN. 1 WEEK. They handed the memory to Percy when he got back holding the pensieve, before collapsing.

Percy caught them with their leg, set the pensieve with memory inside on the ground, and helped them into a proper seat. It would be enough, Tyrone thought as they slumped back.

The pensieve memory was watched and reviewed. Coldness. Darkness. Hopelessness. Running, the flash of light from Harry’s Patronus herding them away.

The pink woman shrieked, “Pensieve memories can be tampered with—”

“I’d think as Head Auror I would be able to recognize memory tampering,” Madam Bones said calmly.

The entire Wizengamot fell in whispers. Tyrone sat at their bench, running dry of patience. They swallowed, mouth too dry. A glass of water would be needed when this was over.

Madam Bones stepped up, giving an unimpressed look to her peers. The whispering halted. “Those in favor of clearing all charges?”

They dared look at every judge of the Wizengamot, piercing fury for any who did not raise their hand. Harry’s breathing strained, as what looked like less than of them raised their hands.

“And those in favor of conviction?”

Fudge raised his hand as did the terrible pink woman. A handful of others did as well. Tyrone made sure to memorise their faces. They would need to die.

Fudge glanced around the room, then lowered his hand. In suppressed rage, he said, “Very well, very well… cleared of all charges.”

Tyrone winked at Harry, then bolted out the door. If they were lucky, this would be the last time they would have to willingly enter a Ministry building.


	3. The Bloody Baron

Tyrone blinked. It should not have surprised them even the Sorting Hat knew there was something wrong. The ridiculousness of an entire Wizengamont hearing before Harry Potter because of underage magic was enough warning their final year of Hogwarts was going to be anything but normal.

Absentmindedly, they recalled how their previous years of Hogwarts were not normal either. Last year had an international school tournament with a Hufflepuff dead. Fifth year had a rampaging murderer break into the school. Fourth year there was everyone pointing at Harry Potter being some Heir of Slytherin nonsense. They were not really sure what had happened in third year which made the Headmaster award a ridiculous number of House points to Harry Potter at the end of the year feast. The only thing different this year was the abnormality decided the only mute student at Hogwarts needed to get entangled with an underage hearing for Harry Potter.

“Yes, I have heard the Hat give several warnings before,” said a voice. Tyrone whipped around. Sir Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, was speaking. “Always… detects periods of great danger… advice… stand together, be strong from within.” Most of the students’ squabbling blocked out what Sir Nick was saying, but it was enough for Tyrone to tap their chin. They would have to pay a visit to Sir Nick later. “Peaceful cooperation, that’s the key. We ghosts… maintain links of friendship… Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never… argument with the Bloody Baron.”

Dumbledore doled out the typical announcements before they were rudely interrupted. They froze when the same pink woman from the hearing, Professor Umbridge as she introduced herself, began speaking. Tyrone sank into their seat when she droned on about reforming Hogwarts’ education. Ministry idiocy decided to directly infect Hogwarts. Joy. If the Ministry felt Hogwarts education was lacking, they should take it up to the Board of Governors, not elect one of their own as a professor.

They shovelled rice into their mouth. Food would serve as an adequate distraction from the Ministry's self-destructive behaviours.

“Now, Gryffindor first-years, remember the password is _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_...” Tyrone heard from one of the prefects.

Feast finished, Tyrone ignored the rest of their housemates retreating to their common rooms. Sir Nick had flown off in the middle of announcements, but the Bloody Baron was still in the Great Hall floating around. They walked up to him and coughed.

“Oh, hello there,” said the Bloody Baron. “How can I help you?”

Tyrone got out their notepad and wrote. They raised it for the Bloody Baron to read. _Hello, I’m Tyrone. I’m mute, which means I cannot talk, so I’m just going to write if it’s okay. I haven’t been able to speak since I was 8._

“Oh! Oh…” The Bloody Baron hummed. “Maybe you should make a card to introduce yourself with. I imagine it might help quicken introductions.”

Tyrone grinned. _Thank you for the suggestion. I wanted to ask you a few questions if it’s okay._

The Bloody Baron blinked. “Me? Why not Sir Nick? He’s your House ghost and generally is more… approachable by students.” He gestured to the visible blood on his clothes.

They shrugged. _They flew off earlier, and asking everyone by holding up a notepad gives me trouble. You were still in the Great Hall._

“Fair enough, young lad. Ask away!”

_Has the Ministry ever tried to interfere with Hogwarts before?_

The Bloody Baron’s small smile disappeared. “I can’t say they’ve ever been this successful, electing someone so involved with legislation as a professor before. The Hogwarts Charter… it’s been so long since anyone looked at it for the exact wording. I suppose it goes over everyone’s heads there might be something the Ministry isn’t allowed to do by their own agreement.”

_Shouldn’t at least the Headmaster know the rights the charter guarantees? “Know your rights,” it’s the first lesson I was ever taught at home._

The Bloody Baron’s translucent lips thinned. “He should, but I’m not sure if he does. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, lad. I’ll bring it up with the Headmaster to have another look-over for you.”

Tyrone nodded, and the Bloody Baron flew off. The life of the great hall slowly dimmed, until only a few giggled and hushed conversations could be heard.

They made their way to the corridor of the Gryffindor common room. Tyrone raised their chin up to the portrait of the Fat Lady, painfully fingerspelling the new password: _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_.

The Fat Lady gave a sympathetic smile. “No friends yet to say the password for you, I presume?”

Tyrone shook their head and kept it bowed down.

She sighed, and her portrait swung open like a door. Tyrone entered the common room, quickly retreating to their dorm at the sight of Fred and George Weasley plotting. They would not be the victim of any pranks from those two this year. Ministry officials could curse them, but the Weasley Twins blinded and deafened students with their cruel ideas of pranks. Even if the effects of missing senses were temporary, Tyrone clung to their remaining privileges tightly. If they could avoid another shut-down caused by them...

Tyrone hopped on their bed. They instantly felt a sharp pain in their back. Off their bed, Tyrone lifted their blanket. A block of wood was on their bed. Was this meant to be a prank?

They hesitantly picked up the block and examined it. Tyrone squeezed it. There did not seem to be anything magical about it at all. Remembering the Bloody Baron’s suggestion of making an introduction card, they sighed and took out their wand. A card made of wood was not in their mind at the time; they hoped to be able to make a plastic one resembling a business card, but wood was easily modified by magic.

Magic surrounded the block of wood, flattened and carved into it: _Hello, my name is Tyrone Guy. I’m mute, not deaf._ They examined their spellwork, satisfied. It would be enough.


	4. Professor Umbridge

“Good morning, Professor Umbridge!”

What was this, a first-year class? Tyrone gripped their quill tighter. Fudge, of course, was the likely suspect for Umbridge’s appointment as a Hogwarts professor to tout Ministry propaganda. It was unfortunate, despite history showing the same mistake, that simple words continued being effective in swaying public opinion. Idiotic masses were the idiots responsible for propping up idiotic governments. _Simple-minded sheep,_ Tyrone scowled in their head.

“Mx. Guy, please do be a dear and join your classmates,” said Professor Umbridge. “It wouldn’t do to have a student disrespecting their professor.”

Tyrone stayed silent, as they always had been. With their hand in a thumbs-up position, they touched their chest twice, right then left. A middle finger pointing to the back of their hand. Painfully, they resorted to fingerspelling Umbridge. Undeserved respect, but Tyrone can still give it. _Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge._

Professor Umbridge though was a right toad and smacked their hands with a ruler.

“Detention,” she said. “Perhaps a few lines can get it into your head to speak.”

No one jumped to defend them, shuffling awkwardly. Of course not, who wanted to be associated with the _mute kid—_

Suddenly, the dreaded voices belonging to the Weasley Twins spoke up.

“Professor Umbridge, I’d like to politely inform you—”

“—you might want to reconsider handing detention, for you see—”

“—Mx. Guy over here can’t talk. They’ve been unable—”

“—to at all, been like this since an incident in our first year.”

“One of our pranks didn’t sit well, and I do sincerely apologise—”

“—but even Madam Pomfrey was unable to find a counter.”

Tyrone blinked. The world was ending. An entirely believable fake story Professor Umbridge would happily eat up at their own expense.... They squashed the thought. Far more likely they aimed to squeeze a favor out of them to test one of their products. (Even if they were thankful the Weasley Twins at least noticed them not talking was not by choice.)

“Are you saying you cursed one of your fellow students?” The grin on Professor Umbridge's face was disconcerting.

“No, of course not, Professor Umbridge, but ah, we did—”

“—do something. We never were quite sure what happened—”

“—but we suspect there was tampering from another student—”

“—and so Mx. Guy uses sign language in class. I’m sure if—”

“—you knew the language, you’d find Mx. Guy was just—”

“—saying ‘Good morning, Professor Umbridge’ as the rest of us.”

The Weasley Twins smiled with their hands folded at their desks. 

Unfortunately for them, Professor Umbridge was unamused. “All three of you will see me in detention at 8 pm, sharp.”

George or Fred, Tyrone gave up caring years ago, gave them a sympathetic look. _Sorry,_ he mouthed.

“This is your N.E.W.T. year, and all of you are below the standard expected as a result of incompetent teaching from your previous professors in this position. Fortunately for you, Minister Fudge has taken it to his attention to rectify this and has appointed me to ensure all of you follow a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.”

> Course aims:  
>  1\. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.  
>  2\. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.  
>  3\. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.  
> 

"Now, does anyone have any questions?" Professor Umbridge asked in a tone drowned in artificial sweetness. “None? Well then, everyone take out your copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard. Turn to page five and read chapter one, ‘Basics for Beginners.’ Fortunately for _some_ of you, there will be no need to talk.”

Tyrone hated it. Fake people were worse than those who intentionally spread ill-will like Mother. People like Mother had the dignity to be transparent; they were brutally honest. Offhandedly, they reflected how this made Professor Snape on equal footing as Mother. It did not bother them.

A passing glance of the contents of the book brought a headache to Tyrone. They would get more out of this class revisiting the video kung fu lessons they had on VHS in their head or the… practical lessons in street fighting they quickly picked up when they left home during the dark. Maybe they could write out essay outlines for their other classes in Spanish, claiming they were notes. The thought was quickly squashed; even if Professor Umbridge didn’t seem the type, Spanish had readily available classes to learn outside of Hogwarts. It would have to be in a language such as Chinese which were less likely for her to be fluent in.

Learning Chinese would at least enable them to be able to read an original print of _Journey to the West_. Perhaps Cho Chang could forward them some book recommendations and study techniques. Tyrone frowned. It could end in disaster though if she thought they were just trying to distract her from her dead boyfriend.

After class, the Weasley Twins cornered Tyrone in the hallway. They stiffened.

“Umbridge, right toad, there, but I suppose we just wanted—”

“—to apologise, since Harry was telling us about how a Mx. Guy—”

“—defended them in his hearing, and we realised you were—”

“—in our year, we didn’t even realise this entire time you were mute.”

Tyrone took out their notepad, not bothering to hide their glare at them. _Just keep me out of your pranks if you want to thank me. I’m still not over how you made everyone blind in our second year. I can’t talk, and if I’m blind, I can’t communicate at all._

One of them winced. “Well, we… cutting off someone’s senses...”

“What Fred is trying to say, we’re sorry. It was annoying for some people, but—”

“—we should’ve realised it would’ve affected other people worse.”

 _I barely can navigate the Wizarding World without talking. I don’t want to think about navigating the Wizarding World without being able to see or hear._ When one of them was about to give a response, Tyrone grabbed their notepad back and stormed off.


	5. McGonagall Report

Tyrone stood in front of Professor McGonagall’s office. She would be coming out soon to go teach her classes. When she nearly spilled her tea coming out, Tyrone couldn’t bother feigning care; she should not have been caught off-guard.

They tapped the back of their hand, then touched their pinky. Tyrone hit their other hand with a rolled index finger, pointed at themself, then offered both hands forward. _‘Prof U penalty me gave.’_

Professor McGonagall did not know much sign, but she had picked up enough from interacting with Tyrone. “I have classes to teach. We can talk about appealing your detention after it concludes.”

With their index finger out, they tapped below their shoulder. Two hooked hands pulled apart from another, then two flat hands separated. Their hand imitated a moving mouth. _‘Because class not speak.’_

McGonagall looked ready to leave, clearly not understanding. Tyrone held back a sigh and tried again, resorting to simply pointing at their mouth.

“Mx. Guy, are you trying to tell me Professor Umbridge gave you detention because you wouldn’t talk?”

Tyrone nodded. They wrote on their notepad: _Professor Umbridge assigned me detention for not verbally saying, “Good morning, Professor Umbridge.” The Weasley Twins tried to explain I’m mute to her, but she just gave them detention too._

“I’ll have a word with her. I can at least reassign detentions to myself if she refuses to drop them.”

_What if she just trees to give me detention the next day, ma’am?_

“I imagine detention with Professor McGonagall everyday won’t be so bad if all you do is homework and reading,” she said dryly. Tyrone snorted.

They turned to leave. It wasn’t foolproof, but if they had to resort to duelling, Professor Umbridge’s denial of having them practice defence spells in class meant she would be out of practice too. Tyrone could never rely on spells to solve their issues anyhow. As unsubtle as it was, fisticuffs was their speciality. Should spells be necessary, having the advantage of being proficient in nonverbal casting by need also helped.

Weeks passed, and Tyrone had minimal issues with Professor Umbridge directly. Cho Chang proved herself useful with teaching them Mandarin, even if it turned out she did not know much more than was needed for hexes. Cedric Diggory was never brought up. This was not a Mandarin lesson day though, for Tyrone walked soullessly through the library. The defence section was barren of books, Professor’s Umbridge’s latest censorship campaign.

“Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?” Tyrone stiffened and tried to locate the area the voice was from.

“Just you and Ron, yeah?” It was Harry Potter’s voice, they realised. Tyrone shuffled from behind and coughed loudly.

Harry whipped his head around. “Guy, what are you doing here?” He frowned. “Actually, is there anything else I can call you? This is just going to be really confusing if I keep calling you Guy.”

The redhead piped, “Oi, who’s them?”

“Ron, Hermione, remember how I told you a Mx. Guy testified as a witness at the hearing for me?” Harry asked. “Well, this is them. I didn’t realise you were actually a Hogwarts student.” He eyed at their tie. “And a Gryffindor too! I’m guessing you must be a seventh-yean, then?”

Tyrone stifled a laugh and nodded. They rifled through their robes and took out their card, reading: _Hello, my name is Tyrone Guy. I’m mute, not deaf._

“The Ministry couldn’t even bother giving you an interpreter. I thought for a second there Fudge was going to just dismiss you until you started writing out words in the sky,” Harry admitted. 

Tyrone huffed and gave a mock incredulous look into the air. 

“Hey, Tyrone, what’s your opinion on Umbridge?” Hermione asked quickly.

“Hermione—” Harry protested.

“C’mon, let Tyrone talk, erm…” Ron looked embarrassed. “Write?”

They repeated the same gesture they made to Snape and grimaced. Tyrone wrote in their notepad: _She gave me detention for not saying, “Good morning, Professor Umbridge!” It’s not my fault she doesn’t sign. Her classes are largely useless Ministry propaganda listening sessions._

“Well, Harry’s good at defence,” Hermione said, “so we’re trying to convince him to teach anyone who wants to learn, you know?”

“Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I’m a nutter, remember?” Harry said. “And Tyrone, you don’t need—”

Tyrone coughed. Harry stopped talking. They furiously wrote in their notepad and nearly shoved it to Harry’s face.

“Well, what does Tyrone have to say?” Ron asked.

Harry skimmed the note, and his eyes widened. He read aloud, _“The Ministry is a time bomb waiting to explode. Mindless sheep plague society, willing to eat up any of their propaganda and accept their censorship. I will not be a mindless sheep. Your underage magic hearing was stupid. It should have been dismissed as a non-issue. If the Ministry hates you, you are someone worth following.”_

Hermione grabbed the notepad, reading it for herself. “I’m glad you don’t believe the Daily Prophet’s rubbish.”

“But you’re a seventh year,” Harry protested. “You probably know loads more magic than I do.”

Tyrone shook his head. They took back their notepad and wrote: _I nearly fainted from magical exhaustion at your hearing. It happens too often. I need to learn how to use low-power spells in unexpected ways._

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_ is effective against trolls,” Ron offered.

“I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you’ve got to say,” Hermione said to Harry. “Look, you know the first weekend in October’s a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who’s interested to meet us in the village, and we can talk it over?”

“Why do we have to do it outside school?” Ron asked.

“I don’t think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to,” Hermione said. She bit her lip and eyed at Tyrone. Taking their cue, Tyrone nodded and left.


	6. The Hog's Head

Tyrone pulled on their scarf. It was too cold to be sitting still, though the wind outside was appreciated. Every bone in their body was screaming to have them leave, between the alcohol, dirtiness, and odd crowd. Given the Hog’s Head was a pub, it was expected for alcohol to stench the entire place. The lifetimes of filth on the floor was normal for dodgier places like this. People who still chose to go to these places were not here because they didn’t like the Three Broomsticks’ service. Others were helping themselves to butterbeer, which someone already tried offering them earlier. They turned them down. Nothing could convince them drinking the poison would ever be worth it.

The students sitting down next to them were recognizably Light aligned, even if Tyrone was not familiar with most. Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, Anthony Goldstein… of course, the Weasley Twins were there too. Tyrone pretended to not notice them. They were thankful for the familiar face of Cho Chang before paling slightly as they recalled Harry was still indirectly responsible for Cedric’s death. A spot of bright teal caught their eye, and they whipped their head around. 

“Just a butterbeer.” The voice was hoarse sounding, and they passed the bartender the sickles. Idly, Tyrone thought to tell them their cloak wasn’t covering their head properly. Teal hair was too recognizable in a dodgy place like this. Tyrone largely ignored the commotion between the others; they’d get it in their heads without their assistance Harry was worth learning from if they even showed up here. Was there a chance this person was a Hogwarts student? Dyed hair wasn’t easily missed, even if it looked to be only partial.

Luna piped up, “Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army.”

“What?” Harry said.

“Yes, he’s got an army of heliopaths.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Hermione snapped.

Luna said, “Yes, he has.”

“What are heliopaths?” Neville asked.

“They’re spirits of fire.” Luna said firmly, though it was clear she was silently raging. “Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of—”

“They don’t exist, Neville,” Hermione said. 

“Oh yes they do!” said Luna angrily.

The teal haired fellow coughed loudly. “Sorry, did you say heliopaths?”

“Yes,” Luna said firmly. “Have you seen them before?”

“My cousin, he’s a natural with anything involving fire,” he said. “He was quite distraught when he finally found a few in the wild, it looked like they were being possessed.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Are you just here for the bar or are you a Hogwarts student?”

He pulled down his hood. Tyrone’s suspicions his hair was only partially dyed were correct, for the teal hair was only on the right side. “I didn’t realise other students were going to be here, so sorry for butting in. I do like the idea of a practical defence group though. If anyone knows how to survive the Dark Arts, it’s gonna be the kid who’s been targeted his entire life.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, but he reluctantly took it as a compliment without making a fuss out of it.

“Jason, you told me sulking wasn’t a healthy way to grieve,” Cho said suddenly.

The teal haired fellow, Jason, grimaced. “Hi, Cho.”

_“Jason.”_

“I’m not even grieving; I have no one to grieve for.”

“Hem, hem,” said Ginny in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge some looked around in alarm and then laughed. “Weren’t we trying to decide how often we’re going to meet and get defence lessons?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, “yes, we were, you’re right...”

More squabbling occurred, but everyone, even Zacharias who was the last, gave in and signed their names onto Hermione’s piece of parchment. If prior experience hadn’t told them the sort of effort to do so wasn’t worth it, Tyrone would have been able to tell them it wasn’t an ordinary piece of parchment. In fact, it was the kind of parchment used for contracts, drenched in magic, teasing them they could only ever dream of having enough magical reserves to make their own. Tyrone clenched their fists. 

When Jason left, Tyrone tailed after him. Walking unnoticed in broad daylight was easier for someone who never made a sound. They would only be there to find out who he was.

“Marietta, I’ll be fine,” Cho assured her. “I just got to talk to Jason by myself for a bit.”

She looked unconvinced. “I regret signing that parchment.”

“Please,” Cho begged. “We can talk about this later.” With a huff, Marietta left. They frowned. Tyrone would need to keep an eye out for her.

“Hi.” Jason shifted under the uncomfortable glare from Cho.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t drinking firewhiskey because if all you wanted was butterbeer, you could have gone to the Three Broomsticks!” Cho snapped.

“I assure you, I did only order a butterbeer,” Jason said coolly. He bit his lip. “It was nice of you to speak up for Harry back there.”

“You’re trying to change the topic.” Cho twiddled her fingers.

“What is there to talk about?” Jason countered. “I’ve already told you I was disowned last week.”

Cho punched his shoulder. “You didn’t need to dye your hair to announce you’re going through your edgy emo phase to deal with not being able to see Presley.”

“I did it last night after dinner,” Jason said quietly. “I was just… I am so tired. I am just so tired. The other Slytherins have been awful, and they’re always awful, I know, but even Flint, who only ever cares about one-upping Wood has been catching fever.”

“You don’t need to be hurt alone,” Cho said. She squeezed Jason’s hand. “We’re all hurting.”

“Wait until that Zach guy finds out I’m a Slytherin and kills me,” Jason joked. He scratched the back of his head, but his gaze landed on Tyrone. Realising they were caught staring, likely also purposefully spying, Tyrone fled. They should not have been there.


	7. Dumbledore's Army

Tyrone was tired. There was no reason to suspect Educational Decree Number Twenty-four was in place because Umbridge knew about Harry’s defence group specifically. It was in line with all her previous actions, a checklist to keep her authority unchallenged. This did not stop the incessant whispers between Fred and George Weasley though. 

“Can hardly believe—”

“—what an absolute toad—”

“Bet Zacharias was spying.”

“Oh yes, he was a prat—”

Tyrone shoveled food down their stomach. They winced as the rather rich dumplings did not settle well and went to drown the feeling with water.

Someone tapped their shoulder, and they instinctively pulled up to punch whoever sneaked on them’s nose. 

“Ow! Man, you’re even worse than Harry with your reflexes.”

“Shoot, Fred, your nose is bleeding.”

They relaxed at the voice. It was just one of the Weasley Twins.

“Anyway, just wanted to tell you we need—”

“—to talk about the thing, after classes—”

“Teal is a rather fine color, isn’t it?”

“Much better than nosebleed red.”

Tyrone forced themselves to breathe normally. It is possible they were not talking about their tailing journey after Jason; they were surely at Zonko’s at the time. 

“Aye, I’d say it was Dumbledore’s favorite.”

They relaxed their shoulders. No, of course not. It was just to show them where the defence group was meeting. 

Tyrone shook their head and gave the Weasley Twins a thumbs up.

The Weasley Twins practically dragged a barely conscious Tyrone to a room on the seventh floor right at 8pm. It was not Tyrone’s fault they felt so tired after eating dinner. Everyone went through food comas every now and then. Convenient timing food comas just happen to be on Tyrone’s side. They were fully prepared to sleep through the entirety of their first meeting. Taking in the room being full of bookcases of defence books, Tyrone supposed they would have to thank them later for not letting them sleep through it all. 

Jason thankfully found their way to the room. With the glances in Cho’s direction, it was obvious who helped him find it. His tie was noticeably missing.

“This is the Room of Requirement, also known as the Come and Go Room. Anything you need, this will do its best to use magic to fulfill it,” Harry explained. 

“It’s fantastic!” Cho said. Others murmured their agreement, and Tyrone gave a thumbs up. They would have to file it away for later.

“It’s bizarre…. We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George?” Fred frowned. “But it was just a broom cupboard then…”

“Hey, Harry, what’s this stuff?” Dean gestured to the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass.

“Dark Detectors.” Harry stepped between the cushions to reach them. “Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don’t want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled…”

He gazed for a moment into the cracked Foe-Glass; shadowy figures were moving around inside it, though none was recognizable. He turned his back on it.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and—er—” He noticed a raised hand. “What, Hermione?”

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” Hermione said.

“Harry’s leader,” Cho said, looking at Hermione as though she were mad.

“Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,” Hermione said. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So, everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?”

Tyrone raised their hand, as did everybody else; even Zacharias halfheartedly did so. 

“Er… right, thanks,” Harry said. “And _what_ , Hermione?”

“I also think we ought to have a name,” Hermione continued. “It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don’t you think?” Tyrone held back a snort. Zacharias also held the face of someone holding back from guffawing. They narrowed their eyes at him, who returned the same favor. 

“Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?” Angelina said hopefully.

“Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?” suggested one of the Weasley Twins.

Hermione frowned at him. “I was thinking more of a name that didn’t tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings.”

“The Defense Association?” Cho offered. “The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we’re talking about?”

“Yeah, the D.A.’s good,” Ginny said. “Only let’s make it stand for Dumbledore’s Army because that’s the Ministry’s worst fear, isn’t it?”

There was a good deal of laughter at this.

Jason frowned and raised his hand. “Wouldn’t it be better to name ourselves something mundane, like the Chess Club? We could even get approval for an actual chess club to use that as a recruiting ground for anyone else to join.”

Hermione considered it. “You may be onto something there. Jason, wasn’t it?”

Ron frowned. “What happened to your tie?”

“Pardon?”

Tyrone palms were sweaty.

“Yeah, did your owl eat it or something?” Dean asked. “I didn’t want to say anything earlier because it felt rude to ask.”

When Hermione gave the Weasley Twins a look, they loudly proclaimed, “It wasn’t us!”

Jason gave an apathetic shrug. “If I’m going to partake in a club Umbridge disapproves of, I might as well break the dress code while I’m at it. Ties are so annoying to deal with.”

Ron grinned. “You’ve got the right idea there, mate. Fiddling with my tie in the morning was not something my brothers told me I’d have to deal with at Hogwarts.”

“Say, what house are you in though?” Ernie asked, frowning. “I don’t recognize you from Hufflepuff, and I’d think I’d noticed someone from Gryffindor with hair like yours.”

“He’s a Ravenclaw,” Cho said quickly.

Marietta was not having it though. “Cho, you don’t have to cover for him! Anybody can see he eats at the Slytherin Table during meals!”

Zacharias choked. “What.”

“Geez Marietta, cut the guy who was literally disowned a week ago some slack,” Jason said dryly.

Chaos ensued.


	8. Consider Screaming

Susan put Jason in a Full-Body Bind. The Weasley Twins were plotting, probably planning to get the Slytherin common room password. Poor Neville was terrified out of his wits of what was happening as were Colin and Dennis. Harry was lost and tired. Ron was only mildly horrified. Hermione looked much too smug. Everyone else contributed with their desperate shouting.

“Are you absolutely mad?”

“To be fair, he was apparently there at Hog’s Head.”

“He’s a Slytherin! How do we know he’s not spying on us?”

“We’re so not taking Slytherin Quidditch practices into account for the scheduling.”

Tyrone absentmindedly flicked their wand, releasing Jason from the Full-Body Bind. They ignored the strain it put on their core.

“My mother was a Muggle,” Jason said pointedly, patting his pants from dust. “But this isn’t about blood politics. I wanted to learn how to defend myself with magic, not just my fists. Isn’t that why we’re here; to learn how to defend ourselves?”

They turned sharply at Jason at that last comment and shoved their notepad in Jason’s face. _Martial arts or boxing?_

Jason paused, and there was something of a strain in his face. “Erm, street fighting, mostly.”

They tapped their chin and continued writing. _I do street fighting too. Kung Fu was an inspiration though._

“Oh nice! I guess you don’t really need to talk as a student. I remember my mentor being annoyed with how much I talked...”

Harry cleared his throat. “We could do that too. Practice fighting with our fists, I mean.”

“It would be useful in case we lose our wands,” Hermione said slowly.

“I still say he’s going to turn traitor!” Zach called.

“I signed that contract just like the rest of you!” Jason snarked back. “And if you’re so convinced I’m out to get you all, making yourself the viable to be the first target isn’t the smartest move, Zach.”

Zach shoved over. “Who said you could call me Zach?”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Unlike some people, I don’t define a person by their family. People are judged based on their choices. No one gets to choose what last name they get stuck with.”

Ron frowned. “I thought you hated Malfoy though.”

“It’s Malfoy,” Jason said pointedly. “We all hate him to some degree.”

Ron shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“My first name is Zacharias,” Zach complained.

“Sod off, that’s too much of a mouthful for me to say.” Jason sighed and rubbed his eyes. 

Harry turned to Ron with a painful look on his face.

Ron shrugged. “Mate, I guess even Slytherins are going to hate Malfoy. Jason doesn’t really seem like the type inclined to really help him. It’s going to be for a series of stupid reasons he would.”

“And why would you say that, Weasley?” Zach said.

Ron glared at Zach. “Gryffindor gut instinct.”

“Thank you!” Jason said. “Knew I should’ve tried transfiguring my tie to Ravenclaw colors instead of just taking it off, but oh well. “ He took out his tie from his pocket and fumbled. Tyrone took it upon themself to walk over and tie it for him. “You’d think after seven years I’d know how to tie my own ties…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I think we ought to go back to the topic of a name…”

Tyrone scribbled on their notepad and passed it to Ron.

“ _Dolores’s Angels_ … Tyrone, have you lost your mind?” Ron demanded.

“No, I think I know what angle they’re trying to go at.” Harry took the notepad from Ron. “They want us to name ourselves something that appeases Umbridge.”

Zach scoffed. “I’m not calling myself a member of Dolores’s Angels.”

Murmurs of agreement went through the room.

“You know, we could just call ourselves the D.A. still with it,” Hermione said. “We have to go for the secretive aspect of it still.”

“Umbridge approving her own fan club would look bad,” Katie admitted. “We could go with that if she wonders why we didn’t want to be official.”

“All in favor of the D.A.?” Hermione said, kneeling on her cushion to count. “That’s a major—” Her expression fell as some people’s hands suddenly went down. “—or not…”

“I’m not voting for a name a snake likes,” Zach snarled, glaring at Jason’s back.

He took a deep breath. “Zach, you remind me very much of a good friend of mine. She loves spiteing people and thrives on chaos. You two should meet up sometime.”

Zach narrowed his eyes. “Another Slytherin?”

“The Hat tried to put her in Hufflepuff, but she argued for Slytherin?” Jason’s voice squeaked a little. “She regrets it sometimes because according to her, ‘Slytherin is full of dunderheads who have ambitions for great things but don’t put in the hard work to make them a reality.’ But then, she also argues You-Know-Who is an idiot for primarily recruiting Slytherins instead of Hufflepuffs for his cause.”

“Hufflepuffs are just and loyal!” Ernie protested.

“Exactly, if you got an army of Hufflepuffs who believe his cause is righteous, they’ll be loyal to the end for it.” Jason frowned. “There are still some sympathizers in that camp, you could ask Pucey about it if you aren’t going to be insensitive.”

Ron gave Jason an odd look. “You know, for someone with a Muggle mother, you’re starting to sound a lot like a You-Know-Who supporter.”

Jason groaned. “Dude, no, this is why You-Know-Who had flawed logic from the start, trying to take over the Wizarding World with an ideology which attacks the majority and appeals to a minority. There are literally 7 billion Muggles. Killing them all is a fruitless task. If someone’s going to start a terrorist campaign, they better at least have logic on their side.”

“Hem hem,” Ginny said, her impression of Professor Umbridge still being so good it gave everyone a quick scare. “So what name are we going for then?”

“Umbridge Sucks Di—”

Tyrone instinctively punched the person’s nose.


	9. Hermione's Gleeful Grin

Neville shriveled in the corner again. Zach started spouting how Slytherins were evil. The Weasley Twins, one of whom was sporting a new nosebleed, tried to retaliate against Tyrone’s attack and were met face flat to the floor. Lee Jordan, who tried to get them from the other direction suffered the same fate. Poor Harry looked mortified at the scene. Hermione, yet again, looked much too smug. Ron screamed. Everyone else looked absolutely done.

When the chaos died down again, everyone was acutely aware of Hermione’s gleeful grin. “So, I think we’ve just established adding fisticuffs to our training schedule would be a spectacular idea.”

“ _That’s_ what you got out of this?” Lavender demanded. “It was absolutely barbaric!”

“Can you teach me, Mx. Guy?” Colin blurted. “I mean…”

Harry’s eyes barely could stay open. “Look, can we just… go over the Disarming Charm? It was dead useful against Voldemort, and it saved my life more than once. The incantation is _Expelliarmus_. Go square off in pairs and practice, _please_.”

Zach looked ready to argue, but relented when Ernie and Susan glared at him. Everyone’s throats were already a bit sore from screaming, but nevertheless shuffled in pairs. Tyrone was surprised to see Jason following them to partner, but they supposed Cho would want to partner with Marietta. If nothing else, Cho would have to remind Marietta they still valued her over Jason, even if she wanted to shield him from the others’ ire.

Tyrone stood in a relaxed stance, wand at their side. They took a deep breath to calm their nerves. As long as they did not overexert themself, they would get through this. 

Jason grinned. “Nice punch earlier, Ty.” He frowned. “Hold on, how do you even cast spells? Do you just… do them all nonverbally?”

To prove a point, they swirled their wand, and Jason’s wand flew across the room. Tyrone smirked, but their eye twitched.

He whistled. “Nice job, dude.” When Jason turned around to retrieve his wand, Tyrone let themself wince.

Jason came back, shouting, _“Expelliarmus!”_

But though his incantation was acceptable, Jason’s swirl was horrendous, resembling more of a circle motion. Tyrone’s wand didn’t move, but Jason’s jumped out of his hand and landed at his feet. “Uh… whoops?”

Tyrone shook their head. They walked over, showed Jason the wand movement, then repeated it again for good measure.

“Oh! So I gotta push forward, make a circle, then tail in, gotchu.” Jason flushed and picked his wand up, trying again. Tyrone wasn’t disarmed though, and in fact, Jason’s spell was so badly aimed it disarmed Neville who was waiting their turn with Ron and Hermione.

“Sorry!” Jason shouted. 

“I’m okay!” Neville shouted back. “Don’t worry, I accidentally disarmed myself at first.”

Harry blew his whistle; everybody stopped shouting, _“Expelliarmus!”_ and the last couple of wands clattered to the floor.

“Well, that was pretty good,” said Harry, “but we’re overrun, we’d better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?”

“Sooner!” Dean Thomas said, and many people nodded in agreement.

Angelina, however, said quickly, “The Quidditch season’s about to start, we need team practices too!”

“Let’s say next Wednesday night, then,” Harry said, “and we can decide on additional meetings then. Come on, we’d better get going.”

“May I suggest any Slytherin Quidditch practice day as a meeting day? I’m not on the team, obviously.” Jason laughed. There were some reluctant laughing from the others which followed.

Tyrone waved in Jason’s direction as they retreated to the Gryffindor common room, which he waved back in return. As seventh-years who had better luck knowing the castle well enough to escape any trouble, they were part of the first four to leave. The entire way back, they frowned. They never did settle on a name for the group.

It didn’t help the other two people in their four were the Weasley Twins.

“Tyrone, may I say, I severely regret underestimating you.”

“Indeed, you gave poor Fred here a nosebleed twice in a day!”

“I do hope you and Jason are able to coordinate lessons.”

“Perhaps we could even punch Snape!”

“Now, Snape with a nosebleed, what a sight…”

Tyrone severely wished to punch both of their noses and bled out all the blood in their hearts.

When they arrived at their dorms, Michael Corner pulled them aside. “So, uh, hi?”

Tyrone stiffened. They gestured to the plotting Weasley Twins drawing out plans on their bed. One of them holding his wand for light.

“Haha… yeah, I guess, I just wanna put aside what happened second year, you know? It just… it didn’t hit me before, but you never really did have anyone else to talk to once I kinda…” He fiddled with his tie. “I’m sorry.”

They sighed and pulled out their notepad. Michael cast his own _Lumos_ to read the note. _Are you worried I’m going to punch your nose too?_

He winced. “Kind of. I just… didn’t realise you knew how to fight, and then that got me thinking of what I did actually know about you. You don’t like Quidditch, never talk, and you sometimes give off Ravenclaw vibes with how much your nose would be in a book.” Michael forced a laugh. “I don’t know anything, do I?”

Tyrone pinched their nose. _Please just tell me you’ll partner with me in NEWT Potions without being as awkward about it as last year._

“I guess it was mostly my fault for holding second year against you,” Michael admitted. “You just… weren’t ready to talk, and now You-Know-Who is back if you believe Potter...”

_If the Weasley Twins believe in something, we’re all in trouble for it._

This time, his laugh was genuine. “Yeah, I guess you’re right on that one.” He frowned. “Are you okay though? Like…” Michael gestured in the air around Tyrone’s head.

Their eyes watered. The tear dripped on their notepad, destroying the ink which marked their words.

Michael winced. “I’m… really sorry.”

Tyrone rubbed the tears off their cheek.


	10. Snapping Sound

Ultimately, Professor Umbridge’s ire was still comparatively tame compared to Professor Snape’s. She did not have the benefit of having taught Tyrone for six years, fully equipped to tear down their defences, attack their beliefs, and test their limited patience. It was fortunate they were on speaking terms with Michael again. Managing the awkward air to not have their cauldron explode from his distracted recklessness would have been painful. 

“Due to the Headmaster wishing to promote _inter-house unity_ ,” Professor Snape said with clear disgust, “you all are to partner with someone not from your house. Anyone unfortunate enough to have an… accident with their brewing will be expected to join Mr. Potter in detention, scrubbing cauldrons.”

Out of all classes, why this one? Their luck was running dry today for this to happen.

Someone tapped their shoulder. “Wanna partner up before Professor Snape starts assigning partners with the leftovers?”

Tyrone nearly froze. It was Jason’s voice, and the obnoxious teal hair in their field of view proved it. They supposed they hadn’t really thought about what classes they already shared with Jason before, even if they were in the same year. Realising he was still waiting for a response, they nodded.

“No doubt some of you may stand to benefit from some revision on a potion we covered last year: Wit-Sharpening.” Professor Snape chose to stare in Tyrone's direction, who was doing their best to avoid eye contact. They would not be surprised if he got word from Dumbledore about their testimony at Harry Potter’s hearing.

Tyrone took out their textbook for the brewing instructions and grimaced.

Brewing instructions  
1\. Mix in Ginger Root until lime green.  
2\. Mix Armadillo Bile until blue.  
3\. Mix Ground Scarab Beetles until red.  
4\. Remix Armadillo Bile until red liquid is yellow. (Not dark green)  
5\. Remix Ginger Roots until brew is lime green.  
6\. Mix Armadillo Bile until the potion is purple.

“Even at NEWT level all you are, I continue to find incompetence among you all. Nonetheless... begin.”

Jason brought the ingredients back, and Tyrone motioned them to the textbook directions. He winced.

“Erm... mix in ginger root until line? Lime… green.” He continued to fumble through reading the directions until Tyrone took his hand and squeezed it. 

Jason grounded the scarab beetles as Tyrone worked most of the ingredients, reading the directions themself. The final step of wand waving was done by Jason, who looked increasingly guilty about having done barely anything at all. Tyrone hummed.

Professor Snape inspected their cauldron and sneered. “Mr. Walker, bottle up your results. Mx. Guy, stay with me after class.”

They wanted to throw their potion at Professor Snape's face, let the glass etch into his skin and bleed. Tyrone squashed the urge as soon as it came; this would not be the first time Professor Snape would say something ridiculous to them. Jason looked hesitant to leave them, but Tyrone gestured to him to head out; they could catch up with him later. If they couldn’t find him, there was at least Wednesday’s defence meeting.

Michael gave them a sympathetic look in their direction, but it was clear he was distracted. Indeed, when Professor Snape came over to bark at him and the Hufflepuff he partnered with, his potion proved subpar.

As soon as everyone else was finished and rushed out the classroom, Professor Snape turned to Tyrone. “Your potions work today has been… subpar. Despite the O you received on your OWL, and the surprisingly adeptness when working with your own housemates, you flail about when partnered with one of your Slytherin peers.” He sneered. “Perhaps you should put in more effort next week to not unnecessarily fail Mr. Walker due to your own sabotage.”

Tyrone snapped and moved their hands. It was hardly their fault they didn't have any magic to put into the potion during the brewing process. Jason was clearly struggling to read the printed text in their textbook, and they couldn't very well read the directions aloud. The arrangement to have Tyrone do most of the work was the only practical option. If Professor Snape didn't suddenly start pretending to care about inter-house unity, they could have just worked with Michael as they always did. _It wasn't fair._

"You still think you can continue this useless charade, flailing your arms about. Stop this nonsense at once!"

They went on, signing on insult after insult. It wasn't like Professor Snape bothered to ever learn their language to understand.

Professor Snape pinched his nose. “Mx. Guy, I don’t know why you continue playing silly games such as this.” He turned to stare at Tyrone in the eyes. “Foolish enough to continue these charades of being _unable to speak_ in front of the entire Wizengamont.”

They were enraged, and they surrounded their mind in their anger. If this was how they wanted to play a “silly game,” so be it. Tyrone kicked him in the shin, twisted his arm, and barely managed to pin him down.

“Gryffindors...” Professor Snape choked out. He reached for his wand, but Tyrone was quicker. They snatched it off his person, and threw a stunner. When his body didn’t move, they pushed a few desks on top of the body. It should slow him down. 

Tyrone sprinted out into the hall, finally out of his view of sight to show their panicked expression. They nearly punched the person who pulled on their robes but restrained the urge. 

“Dude, what did Snape say to you?” It was Jason’s voice.

He was safe, they were safe, it was going to be fine because they were going to live.

They gave a strangled choking sound. 

Jason winced. “Worse than him blaming you for our potion only being adequate?”

Tyrone bit their lip and nodded.

“Would punching Zach make you feel better? Two Hufflepuffs have a proposal for me, and I have a feeling it’s related to Umbridge’s new Inquisitorial Squad she announced at lunch.”

Tyrone took a deep breath. They could deal with Professor Snape and the complications to their actions later. It was not like they would be the first student to attack him. 

“See, you just tickle the pear in the portrait, and you get into the kitchens! I stop by here sometimes if I get a bit peckish…” He trailed off, hand reached out. “Sorry, you probably already know this. You’ve been here as long as I have, after all.”

Tyrone took his hand and held it firmly. They gave a soft smile.

“Well, cheers then. Let’s see what those ‘puffs want with me. We can go kick their butts if it turns out they just want to fire hexes at the slimy snake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, it's been nearly a month since the last update. I've had this chapter sitting awhile actually, but I've been hesitant to post it. I'm still not completely happy with how I've decided to write Snape in this chapter. I think this is the closest I can get to nailing his character though. While I do enjoy the occasional indulgence in fanon Snape, I wanted to portray him closer to his canon self. 
> 
> Tyrone's struggle right now is not with people challenging their gender identity but from close-minded people, mostly adults, who can't fathom how or why someone wouldn't talk if there wasn't any obvious gag, magical or non-magical, preventing them from doing so. It's a societal expectation issue, but they also will have to later confront to themself _why_ they don't talk, even if it makes them uncomfortable. I said before in earlier comments, but Tyrone has traumatic mutism, not selective mutism. The latter is considered treatable and is largely a non-issue. Traumatic mutism on the other hand, is a defence mechanism which isn't always entirely healthy because it shows the core root of their issues are being ignored. They're not going to enjoy confronting it, but luckily for them, it's something much later in the story. Right now we've got Snape to deal with.
> 
> For anyone who can read tags and connect dots, throw a shot as to Jason's situation right now. First person who's at least vaguely correct gets an omake from later in the story. :D
> 
> Also! Go back to the first chapter; I've made a cover for the fic! Huzzah!


	11. Zacharias Smith

The smells in the kitchens were pleasant, and nothing was burning. It should not have surprised them the chefs in a school would know what they were doing, but Tyrone’s worries of fire were not unwarranted after the many incidents in their first few years of cooking. They still bought fire hydrants in bulk because of it. One of the many extras they had even was in their trunk because although they doubted wayward fire was likely to start up suddenly at Hogwarts, paranoia ruled. 

Their mother was no assistance in the kitchen, too consumed with anger in her grief to even bother continuing to raise them properly. Tyrone pushed the thought back, not wanting to linger on it any longer. Potions class was where they learned to cook, surprisingly. Professor Snape may monotone on how none of them would ever appreciate the subtle art of potion making, but it was reminiscent of cooking. They were self-sufficient enough to practice brewing on their own in empty classrooms in first year, sharpening both skills. None of those practice potions were ever powerful enough to be useful as the magic they waved through their wand seemed to never be enough, but the similar thought processes in both fields guided their hands. It was fortunate all potion work done in class was with partners, so they never had to be the wand to finish the potion. Jason certainly proved themself to have enough magic for the task from before.

Snapping them out of their thoughts, Ernie spoke up, “Hey.” He waved.

Zach, the other Hufflepuff, stopped chewing on his quill. “Huh. Can’t believe you actually showed up.”

“I agreed to it, didn't I?” Jason pulled a face. “Can’t believe _you_ want to talk to me while doing homework. You can’t just let your guard down like that. I could blind you while you’re re-inking your quill.” He vaguely waved his hands, not entirely certain how to emphasise his point.

Zach snorted. “Blech, I’m an twat, but I’m an efficient, logical twat. You can’t do anything with Ernie here as a witness.”

Ernie put down his quill at that and gave an incredulous look at him. “Hold up, you told me we were here because you wanted transfiguration help from someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“Zach here is a big, stinking liar; I’m not even in NEWT Transfigurations.” Jason stuck out his tongue. “Barely passed my OWL with an Acceptable, actually. I’m better at charms.”

“I’m more concerned about Mx. I-Don’t-Talk next to you.” Zach narrowed his eyes at them. “They, after all, got up on my twat with non-verbal threats at me.”

Jason turned around and gave Tyrone a surprised look. They shrugged and made a vague open handed gesture. Truthfully, the brief stare-off they had in the last defence meeting was done more in shock of someone donning black and yellow sharing their sense of humor on their part.

“Whatever.” Zach scowled. “I guess I’m just trying to say you’re surprisingly tolerable for a Slytherin.” 

“Surprisingly tolerable,” Jason repeated. “Guess that’s the best I can hope for.” Ernie looked ready to give a retort, but Jason snapped his fingers. “Could I get an elf here, please?”

A tiny gremlin child _popped_ in, wearing shoddily sewn clothes. (Tyrone wanted to mention child labor laws before it registered to them properly the gremlin might be an actual gremlin. They did not look human between their big, floppy ears and big eyes.) “Dobby here, at your service! What would Not-Master like to eat?”

“Right, is there anything you’re allergic to or just hate?” Jason asked Tyrone. They shook their head. Tyrone doubted he would have the nerve to ask for a helping of lamb brain. Yelled concerns would be had by the white posh on the Hogwarts Board of Governors if the school started feeding their children with the decidedly less desirable parts of animals.

“Could my friend and I get two glasses of pumpkin juice and something lighter to eat then? Nothing with cow product though.”

Dobby _popped_ away and back again with the two glasses of pumpkin juice as requested and sandwiches. With another _pop_ , he was gone.

“You know, the elves can read, even if you can’t,” Zach said suddenly. “Tyrone could have ordered for themself.”

Ernie looked horrified at their friend. “Zach, no. We’ve talked about this.”

“Zach, yes.”

At Tyrone’s puzzled look, Jason clarified. “It’s not that I can’t read, it’s just really hard for me because I have dyslexia. Whole family thought I was just thick. My cousin thought at first it was accidental magic making them move, but he saw the words in my books weren’t actually moving, even though I thought they were. I have a hard time writing too for it, but I guess it could be worse.”

“Yeah, you could be left handed and have to deal with ink smearing,” Zach grumbled. At that, Tyrone realised his quill was in his left hand. “There are instant dry quills, of course, but those aren’t allowed on exams.”

“I wish the professors would let me turn in my assignments in pencil crayon,” Jason said blissfully. “Even colored ink would be easier. I really don’t understand why it has to be in black. I somehow manage to smear ink on my parchment even as I’m blessedly privileged to be right handed.”

“It’s unprofessional and duly below your standard as a Slytherin,” Zach said, giving his best impression of Professor Snape. Mind, it wasn’t very good, but it was funny enough to get a snort from Tyrone.

Jason smirked. “Knew I liked you for a reason.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He shoved his head into his textbook. “But in regards to my vague proposal, I was coerced into watching James Bond over the summer. Since I made the mistake of actually talking to you outside of the D.A. meetings, I have come to the unfortunate conclusion you are not, in fact, a dunderhead. Taking into account Umbridge’s new Inquisitorial Squad is open for sign-ups for those wishing extra credit…”

“No.”

Tyrone took a bite out of their sandwich. A classic PBJ could not be done disservice by even the most incompetent chef. It was one of the few things they made in the early years without worry.

“You could ask Ron Weasley,” Ernie suggested. “He’s a pure-blood, isn’t he?”

“ _I’m_ a pure-blood,” Zach said pointedly. “Descendent of Helga Hufflepuff herself, you know.”

Jason looked unimpressed. “Mate, I might as well be Muggle-born. I literally have no idea what my birth father was, and my mother was a Muggle. I’m just lucky my uncle is Muggle-born or I wouldn’t have been raised with magic at all.”

“Hold on you’re a Mudblood?” Zach raised his hand before Ernie could cut in a word. “Whatever, doesn’t matter right now, I suppose. The point is, Weasley’s gonna get called out almost immediately. His entire family is full of blood traitors, and he hasn’t made it private that he fully supports Harry Potter. You’re another Slytherin. No one’s going to pay attention to what you’re doing, Fishsticks.”

“Sod off, no one calls me Fishsticks, and if I hear you call me that again I’ll throw you off the Gryffindor Tower under a Full-Body Bind,” Jason grumbled. “Anyway, Percy Weasley is in Fudge’s good graces. He can just claim to want out of the blood traitor nonsense his family indoctrinates into their children like he did.” He paused. “Also, I could have sworn there was an unsaid policy about not using slurs when trying to ask someone for a favor.”

Tyrone wanted to punch Zach’s nose. They really did. Zach was the exact type of person Tyrone despised on principle. Arrogant, bigoted, ableist…. What was the point of giving him any of their time? Alas, Jason seemed to want to carry on this conversation with minimal conflict. There would be _words_ later between them though.

Ernie gave Zach a sharp look and sighed. “I’ll talk to him later, but I think he has a point. You’re one of them, a Slytherin. This type of behavior is expected out of your crowd.”

Jason stared at Ernie. “Mate, do you even know why nearly everyone in Slytherin acts like that? When your gatekeeper spouts that no bad wizard didn’t come out of Slytherin, and Hufflepuff is full of duffers...” He shook his head. “Literally the only fair teacher we have is Professor McGonagall. Maybe Binns but he’s so useless, does he really count?”

Ernie frowned. “That’s not true. Hagrid's pretty fair to everyone. Are you sure you're not mistaking Hagrid for maybe that year's defence professor?”

“Hagrid told me that the first day I arrived at Hogwarts, the one place I thought I might have a safe haven from my horrid family,” Jason said calmly. “Then I got Sorted immediately into the supposed evil house.”

“Well—”

“Can’t we just ask the Pothead if he thinks this idea is too Gryffindor for him?” Zach said, not bothering to look up from his textbook. “I for one am perfectly content to live my life if either of you two got caught and tortured by Filch. I just think you might have less of a chance getting caught than Weasley.”

Tyrone looked up from their essay and scribbled on their notepad. They threw said notepad at Zach’s head. “Ow!”

“Did Tyrone just want to hurt you or did they want to say something?” Ernie asked.

“Both, more likely,” Zach mumbled. He frowned as he skimmed the note. “Do I have to read this one aloud? It's pretty melodramatic.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Handwriting is easier than text, but that doesn’t mean just reading other people’s notes solves all my reading comprehension issues.”

Zach groaned but complied anyway. _“Jason is an outcast. Slytherin already knows him. Ron is Harry’s best mate, but was it all just a disillusion, a way to curry favor? He is a strategist, evident in his chess playing. Could he have been playing life as a chess game?”_

“Oh finally," Jason said, "someone here has some common sense that didn't fall out of their brain when disarmed wands jumped out of people's hands and attacked.”

“A convincing argument,” Ernie agreed.

Zach groaned and buried his head in his textbook. "You know, Longbottom was the only one attacked by a stray wand."

Jason ignored him and looked to Tyrone. “Are you sure the Hat didn’t want to put you in Slytherin?”

They made a so-so hand gesture. The Hat put them in Gryffindor because of their bravery in facing the world to overcome their… unique challenges. Tyrone wasn’t quite sure if they were happy their placement seemed almost totally based on their muteness, but the most trouble they had in Gryffindor were from the Weasley Twins and Snape. Being a Slytherin would have forced them to pay more attention to blood politics on top of regular anarchy in the Ministry, and they actually weren’t quite sure whether they actually were a half-blood or Muggle-born. Their mother didn’t seem surprised to see incoming owls or their Hogwarts letter, but they never saw her holding a wand. Ollivander made no great ominous recall about selling a wand to either of their parents, something done to the other student who was buying a wand at the same time. 

Tyrone supposed she could just be a Squib. It would explain why they struggled to gather enough power for spells.

“You know, if you do decide to conveniently kick me out of this opportunity of doing proper wand defence, you only have Tyrone teaching you the classic way of kicking butt,” Jason said. “Not a strike at your intelligence, Tyrone, I’m sure you teach just fine, but considering how idiotic that Zach over there is…”

“I’m right here, you know,” Zach said, refusing to look up from his textbook.

“Shut up, Zach.” Jason stood up and patted their pants. “I’m going to see if any of the elves knows how to make vanilla ice cream as good as Breyers. Best ice cream in the world. Too bad it’s only in America.”

Tyrone got up and snatched their notepad from Zach. It took only five seconds for them to write their words.

 _“Isn’t that just cheap air in dairy?”_ Zach read aloud. “I mean, probably. Fishsticks here has no taste.”

Ernie had to fight Jason to stop him from storming off to Gryffindor Tower with Zach’s levitating body. With his wand snatched almost immediately from him by a bored Tyrone, Ernie was left weaponless. Unfortunately, Ernie's greatness at Quaffle scoring as a Quidditch athlete did not translate into him being good at combat.

“Bloody Slytherins,” Zach grumbled once Jason finally released him from his binds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zacharias in canon was basically Draco Malfoy except in Hufflepuff and no Death Eater parents. There's a bunch of Draco Malfoy redemption stories, so I thought I might as well go self-indulge with Zach here. Granted, we don't see any moment with Zach that really humanizes him, whereas Draco had two distinct scenes. One, when he lowered his wand on Dumbledore, and two, when he told the Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor he couldn't be sure if the person they captured was Harry Potter. Zach actually pushed first-years out of his way during the evacuation before the Battle of Hogwarts. Which is a huge jerk move, the pushing away first-years thing. Honestly, I don't blame him for not wanting to fight though. 
> 
> He is though canonically friends with Ernie, if I remember correctly, and Ernie is mostly a decent bloke. Sure, he's a bit of a coward too, but his heart is in the right place. Zach couldn't have been a _complete_ jerk. There are arguments to be made about being a mutual friend between two people who hate each other, and I suppose it can look distasteful to some people? But to be honest, this stuff happens a lot. You think both of them are all right as long as you don't put them in the same room. 
> 
> Harry isn't going to ever really be best friends with Tyrone, we're not replacing Hermione and Ron, but he is probably going to be angry still, granted. I suppose in that situation Tyrone can point at Percy, and how he's considered the black sheep of the family, but Harry himself, who's a friend of Ron's, doesn't _actually_ hate him.
> 
> I don't know. I do like the plot twist stories where the villain of the story turns out to be the prejudiced Hufflepuff, Zacharias Smith, who was just as bad as Draco Malfoy in a lot of areas but everyone swept under the rug about because he wasn't a Slytherin. They make sense, and the reactions on the other characters to realise their own thinking has been flawed is neat. I just feel like Zach had a point but was overly aggressive about it. He's loyal to what he perceives to be the truth. It's a bit skewed, but he isn't privy to the same information as the Golden Trio, and he isn't willing to make leaps of faith based on word. He's an overly cynical person. Hell, he'd probably go emo with Jason briefly later, because honestly, I smell the edgelord vibes off of him. Forget edgelord Harry, the _real_ edgelord Zach is coming through.
> 
> He's still a terrible person though. Being a jerk is a large part of his personality. Arrogant, bigoted, and (somewhat) an ableist. I hope the reform in his beliefs—because honestly, we can't just leave him like this—seem natural?? By the end, we're hopefully just going to have a regular arrogant, snobby, posh twat, not a prejudiced and unintentionally ableist one. 
> 
> The slight ableism with Zach here is supposed to communicate being passive, not actively malicious, but he is going to feel Tyrone's wrath because that might honestly be worse. I've talked with my friends about this subject, although the context there was with transphobia, not ableism. It's sometimes worse when it was a thoughtless remark and didn't register what it sounded like out loud because that shows it's so engraved into their heads. It is a place where you can force yourself to change your thought process, so it doesn't occur so much though. 
> 
> Tyrone's gonna punch his nose later though for saying Mudblood because _honestly_ , and he calls himself part of high society while using such vulgar language? Smh
> 
> ALSO! Apparently Michael Corner was actually a Ravenclaw in Harry's year according to the wiki? I could have sworn it said before he was a Gryffindor in Fred and George's year and was his first prank victim with fire ants(?) being put in his dorm bed. No idea where I got that from then, but oh well, my Michael Corner is way more interesting anyway.


	12. Bloody Consequences

Jason conjured an ice pack for Ernie, who promptly pressed it against his leg. "Y'all are useless at pain."

Zach sneered. "Not all of us are fans of such barbaric forms of entertainment, Walker."

"One, it's _Jason_ ," he huffed, "and two, you provoked me. Try having respect for other people's boundaries. It's quite useful when you're trying to be diplomatic with people you dislike."

Zach opened his mouth, but Ernie cut him off with a groan. "Just drop it, Zach. I'm not in the mood. Bad enough you go poking at Harry Potter when he's been known to have anger management issues. Honestly, you're the one who went out of your way to talk to Jason."

"I can only call him by a mocking nickname or his actual surname," Zach insisted. "I'm not referring to his first name like we're _friends_." He shivered.

Ernie gave an unimpressed look then turned to Jason. "I apologise for his behavior. He's always like this, unfortunately. It is, of course, why I prefer the company of Hannah Abbot and Justin Finch-Fletchley over him on most days."

"You know my thing against Potter isn't personal," Zach sniffed. He dramatically flipped his hair, facing upward. "I just can't like him on principle alone.”

Ernie looked absolutely done. “Don’t try to reason with him,” he warned. “It just adds more fuel to the fire.”

Zach snapped his fingers. “Oh, I know what I can call you: Jaywalker, of course!”

Jason looked like he wanted to retort a snide comment to Zach, but then Tyrone went into a laughing fit. For what felt like an eternity, everyone stared at Tyrone.

“Did you know they could do that?” Ernie asked finally, when Tyrone managed to control themself.

Jason shrugged.

“No one will be laughing at this time, Mr. Walker," said a sudden voice appearing from behind the corridor. It was harsh, gritty, and absolutely unmistakable. “Mx. Guy has Headmaster Dumbledore to answer to at this time.”

Tyrone gulped. Jason froze. Zach gripped his clammy hands onto Jason’s arm. Ernie straightened up and cleared his throat. “Professor Snape! I apologise, I hadn’t… well, I of course will accompany Tyrone to the Headmaster’s office as prefect...”

Professor Snape sneered. “You need not worry yourself, Mr. MacMillan. I will be accompanying Mx. Guy.”

Tyrone sunk into their robes. They desperately wished they were wearing their sweatshirt and could bury their head into it.

* * *

To be truthful, they already forgot about the fact they knocked out Professor Snape. It was quite easy to get immersed in fleeting everyday conversations, especially when the participants were not actively out for you like the Weasley Twins or had wronged you like Michael Corner. 

They intellectually knew with their struggles performing magically meant a stunner from their wand would not work in their favor. It was obvious in hindsight; they ought to have realised it and banged Professor Snape’s head against a wall instead. Non-magical methods were their go-to for everything, yet they slipped up on something as crucial as this? The stunning spell could have easily completely faltered! The fact Professor Snape was rendered unconscious for a mere total of ten minutes was just an insult to injury.

They silently prayed Professor Dumbledore’s favoritism towards Gryffindors would be enough to save them from being strangled.

"Well, Mx. Guy," Professor Dumbledore said, "I assume you know why you've been called here?"

They sucked in a breath and nodded. At least if they were expelled, they could stake out in muggle London. There was word about a restaurant who exclusively hired deaf staff. Tyrone was hearing, but they may be more inclined to hire them anyway. 

"You will be serving detention for attacking a professor, served by your Head of House, but there has been an interesting discovery from this." Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and Tyrone had to wonder what potion or drug he took to have the effect. "There is a student who requires lessons in Occlumency, and it seems you may be a natural Occulmens. Professor Snape informs me your method is peculiar, but nonetheless, is an effective way of shielding the mind from Legilimency attacks."

Tyrone straightened instantly. They weren't quite sure what Legilimency was, per se, but it was clear enough from context and their Star Wars pre-knowledge; Professor Snape attempted to violate their mind and was unsuccessful. That was good. Well, the fact they could shield themself was good. The fact Professor Snape violated their mind was decidedly not, and if it weren’t for the fact this seemed like a really good opportunity to be on top at the end of… whatever this mess with the Dark Lord the Wizarding World was in at the moment, they probably would try to find a way to use this against him. 

"I assume it can be trusted you will keep this student's secrets in silence?"

Tyrone clicked their tongue but nodded. 

“Excellent.” Professor Dumbledore hummed. “You are free to use the old alchemy classroom found in the third floor corridor for your lessons with Mr. Potter then. Allotted times, 8pm to 10pm.” He then took out a quill and parchment, jotting it down. “You may show this note to anyone who wants to know. It is crucial others are told these are merely tutoring sessions.”

Tyrone carefully took the note and examined the handwriting. It was a poised cursive, tilted right. 

"You are excused, Mx. Guy."

Professor Snape drilled holes in the back of Tyrone’s head. They promptly stood up, and quickly shuffled out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard for me to write, and so is why it took me a month to get out. I might go back and give it a revise later, but it is what is right now, le shrug
> 
> In other news, I'm going to be writing another Harry Potter fic for NaNoWriMo called, _Burnt Marshmallows_. As a result, I'm most likely not going to be updating this fic for the duration of November. It's a Drarry fic set in third year, although it is seemingly unrequited. There's a series plan for it, which wasn't meant to happen, but it did. So the attraction won't be unrequited forever.
> 
> For anyone who doesn't enjoy the ship though, don't worry; the _Don't Say a Word_ series here won't be featuring it. I am considering having relationships later in the narrative, but it's all up in the air for now.
> 
> Also also, I don't know if I've mentioned a character who was meant to show up called Jace Bacon before?? But yeah, she's being scrapped; Adrian Pucey is fulfilling her role since I'm getting conscious of there being too large a cast I'm working with here. I'm still considering on having her just be a Squib later, but her original role is going to Pucey.


	13. excerpt and updates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only a small excerpt of what would be in this chapter. The A/N after will explain.

"Tyrone, could I talk to you?" Michael fiddled with his hands. "Su Li and Anthony Goldstein are interested in talking with you about… stuff."

Tyrone barely looked up from his book, disinterest evident.

“Is that a, ‘I don’t really care but whatever’ or a ‘Does it look like I have the time for this?’ face?” 

Turns out Su and Anthony are very interested in Tyrone's plans to overthrow Snape.

*

Tyrone normally felt quite proud. It wasn't immediately obvious to an outsider, and quite frankly, their pride often was mixed in with larger doses of suspicion, anger, and general sulking. Their suspicion was a point of pride; they were angry because their pride felt attacked, and they sulked because their pride was wounded. Nonetheless, they were proud of themself a good chunk of the time. This excessive amount of pride without anything actually tangible to place it on other than their own boldness may have been part of why the Hat put them in Gryffindor, if they were to be honest. Jason's words of how they could have been a Slytherin echoed through their head. Most people with cognitive function in this school likely qualified for Slytherin in some way. When they first met the Weasley Twins' older brother, Percy, they actually grudgingly respected him, contrary to how his peers seemed to take him. He had ambitions, albeit, wasn't precisely cunning, which may have been why the Hat chose to favor his chivalry in his Sorting. Either that, or the Hat wanted to find a child out of the Weasley household truly distinctive enough on their own to break the Gryffindor streak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for being quite dead, even with the chatfic companion piece. I have a few reasons for this:
> 
> 1\. Grades at school not doing too hot.  
> Studying comes before fanfic writing, unfortunately.
> 
> 2\. I have been in other fandoms.  
> BNHA and MP100 are just more interesting than HP for me.
> 
> 3\. JK Rowling's bigotry against trans folks has been hitting me hard recently.  
> It was a thing coming into writing this story, which is one reason why this fic has an enby OC as the MC, but with further reflection of JK's writing and world building of HP having it so ingrained has been weighing me down. The House system is so rigid, which has new perspective with JK's rigid views on gender. The goblins are caricatures of how antisemites view Jewish people. The punk Tonks became decidedly less punk after falling in love with Remus and just... never went back to that even after he decides to be with her? Wow, it really was just a phase, huh.
> 
> 4\. This fic needs a few clean-ups with Tyrone's internal dialogue.  
> I am trans, but I don't belong to the disabled community. Recently, I've made friends in the podficcer community who are far more aware on ableism than I as an individual. It's become obvious to myself that I had inadvertently used ableist phrases throughout Tyrone's internal dialogue without thinking. To continue this story, I need to be more aware of the words I choose to use to tell this story.
> 
> 5\. I have no motivation to write.  
> Writing is just hard for me.
> 
> Do I plan to discontinue this story? No. Do I have any immediate plans to replace this chapter with an actual chapter? No. Do I have a thorough outline how this story is going to go? Yes, it's so thorough in fact I had to write an abridged version, although I had made alterations to the abridged version which the thorough version needs to be updated from to reflect.
> 
> Will I publish this outline? If I don't manage to get anything written for this long enough someone comments asking if I'm dead, probably. I also have several sequels outlined, covers for said sequels, and music choices for the eventual podfic versions I planned to make.
> 
> Will I accept someone else "adopting" this story or otherwise make a similar fic directly inspired by this one? Go ahead, I'll link back with Ao3 "inspired by" feature unless I have serious concerns about your portrayals of marginalized groups. I hope it won't be issue because I love having other people be inspired by my work. It really gives me the rush to create more.


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